


Long live the king

by daryaTHEfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daryaTHEfangirl/pseuds/daryaTHEfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, full of feels one-shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long live the king

Bobby sat next to the hospital bed. The monitor kept bleeping. Crowley was still alive, at least for now. The room was mostly coloured in regular hospital-green and lit with white flashy neon light. It looked awful. It felt awful. Bobby took crowley's hand and Crowley mumbled some things that couldn't be understood. It's been twelve hours since Crowley got hurt. The doctors had no explanation. They didn't know how to stop it.  
Crowley got struck by an angel blade. One of Michal's assistants. Bobby knew that there is no hope left for Crowley but still he tried to convince himself that there is. He tried. A nurse came into the room. The monitor went quiet. There was nothing they could have done.  
"Time of death, 18:39. I'm so sorry, Mr. Singer."  
Tik, tock, goes the clock and with every second that passed Bobby felt more anxious. Crowley was gone and there was no way of getting him back. He blamed himself. He always blamed himself. He got up. On his way out the nurse came back with a couple of files. "Just sign here please, Mr Singer."  
The pen was shaking in his hand. He just wanted to get out of there, He couldn't bear the thought of having to look at Crowley's dead body. He wanted to scream his pain out, he wanted to forget what love is because he didn't believe in it anymore. Crowley is dead. Love is dead.  
He had to drive home broken like fragile glass. Shattered.  
Bobby spent weeks trying to build himself back together, mainly with alcohol. His house was full of empty beer bottles, even some empty flasks that used to have whiskey in them. He over slept, didnt eat enough and rarley showered. He was a wreck.  
He knew that it won't bring Crowley back. In fact, each morning he reminded himself of that, opening the wounds. He kept his gun on him. He didn't know how many people will try to hurt him even more.  
A knock on the door. it was just one pm but Bobby was already drunk. "Come in..."  
It was a group of men in formal suits. Their eyes were fully black. "You need to come with us, Mr. Singer."  
"Don't call me Mr. Singer." Bobby shut his eyes tightly as the memory of the hospital floated back. "What do you want from me?"  
"The king of hell needs... replacement. You were the closest to him."  
"He's dead! Because of me! And you want to trust me?" Bobby held tightly to his half-empty beer bottle. "Okay. Take me! Take me, an old, fat lost romantic! I'm sure I'll be a magnificent king."  
And so they took him.  
And so, everything became way, way worse.  
* * *  
Bobby sat on Crowley's old throne. He hated it. He hated everything about this place. He already tried to run away. He failed. He had bruises that proved that. Everything in this place reminded him of Crowley. He saw him in every corner. He heard him in every time it became silent.  
A demon walked in the room where Bobby sat. "Sir?"  
"Stop calling me sir.  
"But you are our king. Sir."  
"You think I asked for it?"  
"Being the king is an honor, sir."  
"You're pathetic. I'm here because my love died. How is that fair? How is any of it fair?"  
"I'm sorry, sir." The demon almost ran out of the room.  
Bobby shoved his hands into his pockets. They forgot to take his gun from him. He laughed almost manically. He pressed the gun to his temple.  
"Long live the king."


End file.
